Disclaimer: Picard
is the property of Paramount; McNeil is the property of the author.

Summary: Sara
says good-bye to Jean-Luc in a way that threatens to expose their carefully
concealed feelings for each other.

Warning: BDSM

Note: The first story
I posted was a little offering called "The Captain's Saddle."
I had so much fun writing about the bdsm games that Jean-Luc Picard plays
with his good friend Captain Sara McNeil (of the Starfleet Corps of Engineers)
that I followed the first story with two more: "Later That Same Leave .
. . " and "Dom-Space Communications." This story is the last in this
series, because the good captains are running out of time (and maybe just
possibly energy ;-) ). It is possible that somewhere along
the way I'll tell a few more stories about Picard and McNeil (and no, her
nickname is not Mary Sue; how could you think such a thing?) filling
in some back story and taking them forward as well. But for now,
the time is late 2365 (the second year of Enterprise's mission) and Picard
and McNeil are spending their last evening of a three day leave together.
I have also posted all the prior stories just before posting this
one. As usual, thoughtful comments (good or bad) and gratuitous praise
are welcome; insults and flames will be ignored.

Sara McNeil looked down
at her lover with intense satisfaction. He was lying on his stomach;
his wrists were bound to the corners of the headboard and his ankles were
likewise bound to the footboard. The only light came from dozens
of candles scattered around the room, their warm, flickering light caressing
the planes and angles of his body. "You are so gorgeous," she
said softly. To her amusement he blushed slightly. It was really
quite funny; this man who had not been embarrassed by any of the
things they had done in the past two days couldn't take a simple compliment.
One that was, moreover, a statement of fact. She chuckled softly
as she walked around the bed.

Jean-Luc Picard wondered
if he was blushing. Women had told him on many occasions that he
was good looking and he could never bring himself to believe them.
Now Sara was looking at him the way he'd once seen her look at a drawing
she had considered buying. Her hand brushed lightly against his rear
end, following the curve down to the back of his thigh. "You're here
just for me," she murmured. Her voice, which had sooften snapped out icy
commands, was warm and seductive and he wondered justwhat she had in mind for
him. "I like having all of this," her gesture indicated his entire
body," at my disposal."

"Whatever pleases you,
Maitresse," Jean-Luc replied softly, responding to the mood she had created.
He realized that he had no interest in fighting her, that he had already
surrendered to whatever she had planned. Sara smiled at him and brushed
a finger lightly across his lips. He responded by trying to kiss
it and she allowed it. Then shemoved to the dresser and
returned with a box she had pulled out of her case. In her other
hand she held the scarf that he had used that morning to blindfold her.
Now it seemed like years had passed since he had bent her over a counter
in the bathroom and fucked her with his fist.

In the intervening time,
they had gone for a long rambling walk and he had listened to Sara as she
talked enthusiastically about her newest starship design. "Bio-neural
gel packs instead of opti-cable; the computer system is truly amazing!
And get this, you can land it on a planet." she had said, her gray
eyes bright with enthusiasm . "We'll start actually building the
class prototype in three weeks." She gestured aimlessly with
her hands and Picard had smiled. She frequently got so caught up
in the wonder of building starships that she became inarticulate.

"You're a true engineer,"
he said, grabbing hold of her hand. "If you had a padd or a master
board at your disposal, you could describe every ODN junction in the Intrepid
without pausing for a breath."

"You should be glad I'm
a true engineer, Jean-Luc. You have me, and the Corps, to thank for
your
ship." She had delivered a swift smack to his rear end, which he
had ignored with a show of dignity. Changing the subject, she had
indicated a fork in the path. "If we go left we'll end up on a bluff
that over looks the whole colony."

Now Picard felt a rush
of gratitude wash over him for the way she always orchestrated their time
together so that they had occasionally dropped back into the "real" world.
He smiled as she carefully wrapped the scarf around his head.

Sara wondered at the smile
as she finished tying the ends of the scarf together. Knowing he
couldn't see her now, she looked at him curiously for a moment, then shrugged
slightly. Moving quietly to the terminal that sat on one corner of
the dresser, she called up the music she had chosen for the scenario.
Electronic jazz filled the room; it was not intrusive, but was loud enough
to mask her movements somewhat. Now Jean-Luc would have only his
sense of touch left. She slowly pulled on one of her leather gloves
and picked up a couple of brushes, one a thick soft paintbrush, the other
a stiff plastic brush she usually used to clean her vac suit. "Open
your hands," she said softly. He relaxed his hands, which had been
clenched into fists. She bent over the bed and ran the paintbrush
across the small of his back. As he shivered, she slowly traced a
pattern on his left palm with a leather clad finger.

"Mmmm..." he murmured,
guessing (and hoping) that she was going to keep him on the edge for a
very long time. He tried his best to relax, even though his situation
was not conducive to relaxation. Suddenly he felt something stiff
and scratchy brush along his left calf. Reflexively he tried to pull his
leg away, but was caught up short by the restraint. He could feel
the bed move as she leaned over him and then her long hair brushed against
the sole of one foot. In spite of himself, he let out a noise that
could only be called a snort. She laughed and moved again.
He waited for a long moment; there was no sense of movement nearby.
Had she left the room? Suddenly he felt something sharp run along
his shoulder, it felt like a pin of some kind. Every nerve in his
body seemed concentrated on that one thin line of sensation. He kept
himself very still, hoping to prolong the contact, but as soon as she reached
the back of his neck, she stopped. He let out a soft sigh that caused
her to laugh again.

"You're just going to have
to lie there, Jean-Luc," she said calmly. "I will decide everything
that happens to you. This time begging, pleading or bargaining
will not help." She leaned close to his ear, her hair falling around
his head. "Just relax and enjoy the ride."

Sara continued to systematically
tease him. In addition to the brushes and the hatpin, she also had
a thick silk tassel, a velvet glove, a hard bristled hair brush, and a
feather. She used the element of surprise, never establishing any
kind of rhythm, and she enjoyed watching as he jumped or squirmed every
time she touched him. So far everything she had done had been soft
or at least gentle. Now it was time to pick up the pace somewhat.
Without warning, she bent over and bit the back of his thigh, a long sucking
bite that left a visible mark on his fair skin. He groaned loudly
and twisted against the restraints. She went back to the gentle touches,
but as soon as he relaxed, she brought her hand down sharply on his rear.
As he squirmed again, she laughed. "Surely, Jean-Luc it can't hurt
that much. It's not like I'm using your riding crop."

Jean-Luc hung on her words.
Slowly his universe was narrowing down to just this place and this moment.
He had no idea what she would do to him or if she was even going to do
anything
beyond the tease. It was, in an odd way, harder to accept than the
beating she'd given him, because there was no way to guess.
"Ahhh!" he cried out. Wax, hot candle wax, dripped slowly onto his
right bicep. She had used wax on him before but this was different;
somehow his body didn't register the feeling as pain, just as a new sensation.
And each new sensation aroused him more while at the same time pushing
away the outside world. One tiny corner of his mind clung to the
word dilithium but he had no inclination to use it. This was
too amazing, and it felt too right to lie here and let her control
everything.

Sara bit her lip as she
paused for a moment. In a situation like this timing was all and
she didn't want to rush things. She knew that for Jean-Luc, time
had essentially become meaningless, or at least she hoped it had.
That was the point of this scenario, to push the person into the now
and let them experience as much pure sensation as was humanly possible.
She bent over his ear and spoke softly. "I'm going to undo the restraints
and you are to turn over now. Do you understand me?"

Her voice startled him
as much as the hot wax had, and he wondered if he remembered how to speak.
"Whatever . . . you want . . . Ma'am . . ." he whispered. "It's . . . all
. . . you . . . now . . . " He felt her hands releasing his wrists
and then his ankles.

"Go ahead, Jean-Luc, turn
over now," she whispered. She quickly restrained him again and moved
again to the dresser to get the ice bucket. Smiling she set it next
to the bed and pulled a strand of purple stone beads out of her box.
Grasping each end of the strand, she rolled them along the underside of
one arm. Then she carefully brushedhis collarbone with the
hatpin, leaving only a faint red mark. After a time, during which
she carefully teased him, she paused and opened the ice bucket. She
had carefully avoided any of the standard erogenous zones, but he had bite
marks in four different places, several lines from the hat pin and a bright
red hand print where she'd smacked his inner thigh several times.
There was a line of hardened wax drips down one calf, and another moving
from the hollow of his neck to just below his navel. To Sara he looked
wonderful; this truly was control. And it was control on both
their parts; while she was responsible for each new sensation, he had not
tried either to plead for release or end the scene. He was better
at this than anyone she knew, easily thebest sub she'd ever worked
with. She smiled to herself as she prepared to increase the intensity;
who would have thought that of Captain Jean-Luc Picard, Starfleet
legend?

Jean-Luc had no idea how
much time had passed and he didn't care. She had paused and he waited,
completely passive to whatever she had planned. "Ohhh God . . . "
he cried out as something very cold brushed against one of his nipples.
All thoughts of passivity vanished as he twisted against the restraints.
The ice cube (that was what it had to be) disappeared and there was more
hot wax, this time on the inside of one of his thighs. He groaned;
she was holding the candle a lot closer and it actually hurt. Not
too much, of course, just enough pain to push him even closer to that place
he needed so desperately to get to. The place where he could let
go of everything . . . "Unghh . . ." The ice cube again,
this time along the side of his neck. It was followed by thevelvet glove, which brushed
softly across the top of his head. And then . . . again he twisted
against the restraints as something pinched his right nipple hard.
It wasn't her fingers, the pressure remained steady, a constant low level
ache that shot straight to his aching erection. He bit his lip trying
not to break down; after all, she had told him that pleading would do no
good now.

Some time later, he had
no idea how long, his resolve crumbled. He had known that it would.
It was the feeling of the soft brush along the under side of his cock that
finally did it, that combined with the hot wax she'd dripped on the nipple
that wasn't clamped. "Please . . . " he managed to gasp out.
That was all he managed to say, her finger brushed across his lips.

"Have you really
reached that point?" she asked softly. The moment stretched out,
as he struggled to think. Before he could answer, she spoke again.
"I'm going to give you a bit of a break." He felt her climb onto
the bed and straddle one of his thighs. "You're not the only one
that needs something." He felt her then, wet and hot against hisleg. He could feel
her arms brush his sides as she braced herself against the bed and her
hair brushed across his chest. "You . . . see," she said, somewhat
unevenly, "I don't . . . have . . . to let you . . . get . . . off
at all . . . ohh . . ." She was rubbing against him, a fast hard
rhythm. She was incredibly wet and he could feel her slick skin move
over his leg.

Sara tried to keep her
eyes open as she moved against him. Part of what was so exciting
was seeing him there, unable to do anything either to help or hinder her
pleasure. His fists were clenching and unclenching and he was
rolling his head from side to side. "Who . . . am I?" she demanded
breathlessly, wondering if he would go this far.

"Maitresse . . ." he gasped
out.

"Are . . . you . . . mine?"

What a silly question,
he thought. "Oh yes, Ma'am . . ." he said quickly "all yours." Why
did she think she had to ask?

Sara moved just a bit faster,
pressed against him just a bit harder and shrieked like a banshee as she
came. She was still for a second and then she moved again, moaning
as the second orgasm washed over her. Carefully she moved away, slumping
on the side of the bed. After a moment, during which she caught her
breath, she ran her hand along his leg and then brought it to his mouth,
where he eagerly licked it clean.The she reached into the
box and pulled out the last item, a bottle of oil.

Jean-Luc smelled it first,
something dark and earthy like the perfume she always wore. Then
he heard her hands slipping together, and then . . . A slippery hand
brushed softly against his balls. He groaned loudly as she caressed
them gently. Her hand then traveled down slightly, one of those slick
fingers sliding carefully inside him andhe moaned again.
Her touch was extremely slow and careful; he knew that she would let him
come in her own good time. He was moaning continuously now;
it had become part of his breathing as he hung on the edge.

Sara looked down at him
and was surprised by a strong rush of feeling. His whole body was
tuned to her now, and he was trying so hard not to beg. She closed
her eyes and drew a deep breath. All the games, all the rituals,
came down to this moment when he gave up himself and trusted her to give
him what he wanted. Slowly she slid another finger inside him and
began to gently stroke his cock. His moaning increased, but shedidn't increase either
her speed or the pressure of her hand. When she knew that he was
close, she stopped, removing her hand from his erection and leaving her
fingers inside him. "Remember who did this to you," she breathed.
"Remember who can do this to you."

"Yes, you are,"
she replied. Her hand moved quickly to remove the clamp on his nipple.
"All mine."

He felt nothing for a moment
except relief, and then . . . painful fire as all the nerves came to life
again. It all happened at once, her fingers moved hard into him and
her hand slid up and down his cock with just the right amount of pressure.
He had been in the eye of the hurricane, but now the full fury of the storm
washed over him and lashed every nerve in his body. Once again time
became meaningless, for he had no idea how long the orgasm lasted.
When it finally subsided, he lay on the bed exhausted and shaking.
Every few seconds he would feel another wave of feeling pulse through him,
gradually becoming weaker until he was limp and quiet. Somewhere
along the line the music had stopped and now the room was wrapped in warm
silence. He was so attuned to her that he could hear the quickly
indrawn breath before she spoke.

"Release 458," she said
quietly. Jean-Luc felt all four restraints click open, and at the
same time she removed the blindfold. The first thing he saw was her
face. She looked down at him with an expression of gratitude and
awe and then leaned over and kissed him gently. He raised his hand
to brush her face and wasn't surprised to find that he was still shaking.

***

Sara had blown out the
candles save one while he showered, and when he slipped back into the bed
he saw that the ceiling had somehow become translucent. He laughed
and pulled her into his arms. "Nice touch, the governor lives well."

"She built this place.
I mean literally; she and her husband worked along with the construction
team." Sara's voice was subdued and Jean-Luc grew concerned.

She didn't want to discuss
it, didn't want to have to explain, but he deserved that much from her.
"I went too far this time. I . . . did something that I . . . I told
myself I would never do."

He had no idea what she
was talking about. He propped himself up on one elbow and wished
that he could see her face better. Her head was half tuned away from
him and after another moment she looked at him. "I told myself that
I would never try to . . . own you. This is supposed to be . . .
just a game." To his amazement a tear rolled down her cheek.
"And now I've ruined it."

He slid out of the bed
and she sat up reflexively to watch in shock as he moved to kneel at the
bedside. She couldn't believe her eyes as he held up his hands to
her, wrists together. "But you've owned me for a long time now."
She looked at him, sure she had heard him wrong. "I suppose it would
be more accurate to say that you've owned part of me. The
part that . . ." It was his turn to hesitate. " . . . the part
of me that wants . . . that needs to be owned." She
looked at his face; only half of it was visible in the faint candlelight.
What she could see looked utterly sincere. He was still holding up
his hands and now he said, " . . . please Maitresse?" Sure that this was
some kind of dream, Sara leaned forward to grip his wrists tightly.

"And you . . . don't .
. . mind?"

"Mind?" Jean-Luc
smiled and leaned forward to kiss her fingers. "I'm yours," he said
softly. She looked down at the top of his head and breathed a sigh
of relief. He did understand what lay behind the games; he
was like her. Oh he probably didn't consciously understand
the matters of control and power that she had studied with the intensity
of an acolyte, but he instinctively understood them, and, more importantly,he understood both sides
of the equation. Plus and minus, top and bottom, yin and yang . .
. dom and sub. Sara sighed, wishing things were different.
Well, she told herself, they aren't. Take advantage of
what you do have now.

"Really?" As he nodded,
she pulled sharply on his wrists. "Then get up into this bed."
She fell back against the pillows as he climbed onto the bed. "Surely
you have a non-verbal way of . . . communicating your devotion, Jean-Luc.
After all, you're so eloquent . . ." As she let her voice
trail off, she spread her legs. He laughed softly and moved between
her legs, slowly kissing the insides of her thighs.

***

The next morning, Captains
McNeil and Picard stood to one edge of the busy landing field of
Starfleet's Y Dara Research Center. The warp-driven shuttlecraft
Hawking had been checked and re-checked by the two, and now they stood
next to it. "I'll see you . . . somewhere along the line," Picard
said, smiling ruefully. He smiled and held his hand out. Instead
of shaking it, she grasped his wrist hard. His eyes widened, and
felt a shock run through him as if he'd brushed a live wire.

"Yes," she said simply,
"you will." She let go of his wrist, turned, and walked away briskly.

The End************************************************************************

"Take me while you canEven if you shine a light
into the mirrorYou won't see me any clearer"